


A Night at the Forgotten Knight

by rahelawriter



Series: For Your Patronage [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Binge Drinking, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Drunkenness, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, POV Thancred Waters, Partying, Protectiveness, Rich assholes, Self-Hatred, Sexual Harassment, Taverns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rahelawriter/pseuds/rahelawriter
Summary: For the first time since before the Bloody Banquet, Thancred and the Warrior of Light share a night of drinking together.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: For Your Patronage [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909909
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	A Night at the Forgotten Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to @Singasong_art on Twitter for the prompt, and for her lovely WoL, Diana!

After her traumatic ordeals involving alcohol at both the Bloody Banquet and at the Ishgardian-Dravanian peace conference, Thancred would not have blamed Diana in the slightest if she’d decided to fully convert to teetotalism; but from the way she quaffed her ale like there was no tomorrow, the Warrior of Light clearly had no lingering issues with drinking.

In the before-times, the two would often drink together at the Seventh Heaven; but now that the matters of Nidhogg and the Warriors of Darkness were resolved, Diana suggested that they drink at the Forgotten Knight. He had no objections, so here they were, standing together at a table in the tavern and undoubtedly making Gibrillont a fortune with how much ale they were consuming…

Or at least,  _ Diana _ was consuming. Thancred kept a close watch on her while he nursed his own tankard at a much slower pace. It was abundantly clear that she was drinking to get drunk, so he’d decided to let her forget her troubles while he kept his mind at least comparatively clearer; for her sake.

And by the time Diana—the petite Auri woman—had finished her fourth or fifth ale of the night, she was quite thoroughly tipsy. But she was clearly far from being done, and she asked for more ale by  _ throwing _ her metal tankard to the floor and shouting, “ANOTHER!” in Gibrillont’s general direction.

With a sigh, Thancred took it upon himself to oblige her demand; he took his own mug, picked her mug up off the floor and made his way to the long-suffering tavernkeep.

“Apologies on behalf of my inebriated friend, ser,” Thancred said, handing the mugs back for Gibrillont to refill.

“No harm done, lad,” Gibrillont said with an understanding nod. “The lass wants another pint, she’ll get one.”

“On her behalf, I thank you,” Thancred said, fishing some gil out of his pocket and laying it on the bar. “She’s always like this when she gets drunk…”

At that, Gibrillont quirked a brow. “Is she? I’ve seen her around here drinking herself senseless a fair few times before, but this is the first time I’ve seen her in such high spirits while doing so…”

Thancred frowned at that. “What do you mean?”

The bartender explained as he refilled a tankard, “From the first time she came to this establishment, she always looked so miserable; some nights she would spend hours ordering round after round after round until all she could do was weep and call out the name of a dear someone that she’d lost. I’d have to cut her off for fear she’d take ‘drinking herself to death’ rather too literally…”

_ Diana… _

Gibrillont continued, a smile now forming on his face: “I can only assume that that ‘dear someone’ was you; if only because this is the first time I’ve actually seen her as a  _ happy _ drunk.”

Before Thancred could respond, the double doors above them were loudly swung open, and he discerned the sound of two sets of heavy, leathered footfalls on the wood. Two adult men. And the sudden, thick floral scent of perfume entering his nose indicated they were very likely rich.

Moments later, the two individuals descended the stairs and entered Thancred’s view; a hyur and an elezen, both dressed in several layers of dyed wools and fine silks. As he expected, they both looked and smelled as typical Ishgardian noblemen would. And when they reached the bottom of the stairs, a look of disdain crossed both their faces. They said nothing, but it was plain that if they did, their words would be unpleasant.

Diana, in the meantime, was leaning on the table, eyes half-lidded and bleary, her tail languidly wiggling. And that caught the eye of the elezen newcomer; the sight of white scales made him jump for the briefest moment before he realized that they didn’t belong to a dragon. The two men whispered to each other for a moment, straightened up, and strode over to Diana’s table.

“My goodness, Mademoiselle!” The elezen exclaimed in plain insincerity, “Whatever is the Savior of Ishgard and Warrior of Light Diana Starborn doing in a disreputable establishment such as this? And so deep in her cups, at that!”

Diana raised her head and squinted at the man accosting her. “Do I know you…?”

The hyur spoke up: “Not at the moment, miss, but if you allowed my lord to escort you back home, then you’ll be able to get  _ very _ well-acquainted.”

(Thancred watched this scene unfold with an increasingly angry scowl. He turned back to the tavernkeep and said, “Ser Gibrillont, I hate to trouble you further, but I should warn you in advance that I’m about to cause a mess. I’ll clean it up, but I’ll require a mop and bucket if you have one.”

Seeming to catch onto what he was asking for and why, Gibrillont nodded and handed Thancred the two mugs of ale.)

Diana looked at the men as though they’d screwed their heads on backwards. “O-oi, are you trying to flirt with me…? ‘Cause, I don’t like that… And I— _ HIC! _ —I have me some stabbers…”

A slimy grin crossed the elezen’s face, and he leaned over Diana and grabbed the table on either side of her waist, trapping her between it and his body. “So do I, but I think you’ll like mine…”

“Pardon me, sirs.”

Thancred’s voice sounded from behind the two noblemen, and they both turned around just enough to have the contents of the tankards in his hands—ice-cold ale, to be precise—poured directly onto the crotches of their trousers.

**_““—AUGH!””_ **

Their yowls filled the tavern, and they both doubled over onto the floor from the feeling of the frigid liquid soaking their groins and, almost more painfully, staining their fine silk pants. Both men murderously glared at this interloper for ruining both their clothes and their chances with the Hero of Ishgard, but Thancred cut them off in a mockingly-apologetic tone:

“A thousand apologies for my clumsiness, sirs. But I must kindly request that you leave my dear friend and comrade in peace—both for her well-being, and for your own.”

Thancred then shifted his stance so that his own daggers caught the light in plain view of both the obnoxious noblemen. That was enough for them to get the message and, with somewhat wobbly legs, they managed to make their escape out of the Forgotten Knight…

… But not before they let out more yowls of pain when the cold Ishgardian air hit their still-soaked groins.

Satisfied that the problem had been dealt with, Thancred checked back on Diana—she still struggled to stand, and she was squinting at the double doors above them with a pout, as if disappointed that she  _ didn’t _ get to stab those men.

Indeed, the next words out of her mouth were: “I coulda taken ‘em…”

“And they would have deserved every onze of pain you gave them, but better that I take care of it,” he deflected. “After all, I think  _ a grizzled ruffian soiling a pair of noblemens’ trousers _ would be at least slightly preferable to _the_ _ Hero of Ishgard stabbing a pair of civilians.” _

A smug little grin then crossed her face; “And it wasn’t jus’ you bein’ jealous?”

Crossing his arms and frowning, Thancred huffed, “Certainly not. I do, however, believe that you’ve had _more_ than enough to drink tonight. Let’s get you to bed.”

Gibrillont was gracious enough to let Thancred book a room for Diana for free, on the condition that he mop up the ale that had splashed onto the floor earlier; so Thancred’s plan was to put his companion to bed, clean the mess, and get a chocobo porter home. But first… 

Even as he escorted the now rather woozy Diana to her room, laid her down on the bed, rolled her onto her side so she didn’t choke, and tucked her under the woolen covers, only one thing was on his mind.

Knowing now that she was so devastated after the Bloody Banquet--after losing the Scions, and him--that her occasional partaking in a pint for fun had snowballed into frequent binge-drinking to forget… And that he was the cause of both her greatest happiness and deepest grief… Knowing that sent an indescribable, but distinct  _ pang _ through his heart.

Kneeling down on the floor beside her bed, Thancred wanted to tell Diana that he wasn’t worth her tears; that he was serviceable as a mentor in rogueship, as a comrade in arms, as a drinking partner, or as a protector from would-be harassers… But nothing more than that. That as deeply as he cared for Diana, he didn’t deserve the reciprocation of that care--to be so dear to her that losing him would be enough to break her heart so completely.

Instead of all that, he simply smiled down at her, brushed her silvery white hair out of her eyes, tucked it behind her horn, watched her golden eyes blink closed, and whispered:

“Goodnight, Dia. Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you like what you read and want to support me and my writing, then be sure to check out my Twitter page (@RWilkes94) and read the pinned tweet!


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